Why Begin with Love? Eros, Agape, and the Problem of Secularism

WHY BEGIN WITH LOVE? EROS, AGAPE AND THE PROBLEM OF SECULARISM • Rodney Howsare • “Benedict’s particular construal of the eros-agape relationship is uniquely suited to provide a Christian response to secularism that neither preserves Christian distinctiveness at the cost of its worldly mission, nor emphasizes the Church’s worldly mission at the expense of its identity as Christian.” Introduction There has been some surprise that Benedict XVI’s first encyclical should be about, of all things, love. The topic certainly does not fit the stereotypes of Benedict so often encountered in the media, and there has even been some talk of Ratzinger becoming “soft” now that he is pope. Of course, anybody who has followed Ratzinger’s theological writings over the years knows that such a theme is far from out of keeping with his concerns. However, such a beginning is not without danger, a fact that Benedict himself seems to be aware of in the opening sentences of the encyclical. After all, who is not in favor of love these days? And is not the love that is now in favor so banal, so bereft of content, that it is almost singularly unhelpful as a concept? What, if anything, are we saying when we say that God is love? This becomes even more problematic if one thinks about the Communio 33 (Fall 2006). © 2006 by Communio: International Catholic Review 424 Rodney Howsare fact that the typical model of love—in late, democratic-capitalist societies—is caught up with the romance of youth, beauty, and fame. As Alexander Schmemann puts it: “In movies and magazines the ‘icon’ of marriage is always the youthful couple,”1 unencum- bered, one could add, with the responsibilities of children and housework. Again, Benedict is well aware of this danger, as the encyclical makes clear, and so we are left with the question, “Why begin with love?” If we are willing to think about the matter a little more, however, it might just be that this very problem—the impoverish- ment of the concept of love in the modern world—justifies such a beginning, for is not the so-called crisis of Western civilization precisely a crisis of love? Or, otherwise put, is not love, properly understood, particularly suited to deal with the seemingly irresolv- able problems facing us moderns? Indeed, is it not the case that the immediate historical background of this encyclical is provided by the rise of militant Islam2 on the one hand, and the increasing secularization of the West on the other?3 If this is the case, then the question as to why Benedict began with love can only be answered in the context of these issues, which are intimately related. What follows is an examination of Benedict’s first encyclical in light of modern secularism and the various theological-political responses to which it has given rise. The thesis is that Benedict’s particular construal of the eros-agape relationship is uniquely suited to provide a Christian response to secularism that neither preserves Christian distinctiveness at the cost of its worldly mission, nor emphasizes the Church’s 1Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy (Crestwood, N.Y.: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1973), 90. 2Just three paragraphs into the encyclical, Benedict notes: “In a world where the name of God is sometimes associated with vengeance or even a duty of hatred and violence, this message is both timely and significant” (DCE, 1). 3I am going to take it for granted in what follows that a necessarily related issue to the problem of secularization is the problem of religious diversity. The two cannot be separated insofar as secularization is modernity’s response to the problem of religious diversity. The influence of the so-called wars of religion on the thought of, say, Locke should bear this out easily enough. But, see William Cavanaugh’s “‘A Fire Strong Enough to Consume the House’: The Wars of Religion and the Rise of the State,” Modern Theology 11, no. 4 (October 1995): 397–420, for a devastating argument against the notion that these wars of religion were, in fact, wars of religion. Why Begin With Love? 425 worldly mission at the expense of its identity as Christian. This will require: (1) a discussion of secularism as a theological problem; (2) a (very sketchy) presentation of the two most serious responses to secularism in theology today; (3) and, last, an explication of Bene- dict’s treatment of eros and agape, which highlights its relevance to the problem of secularism and depicts its advantages over the two previously discussed theological approaches. Unfortunately, this means that no explicit attention will be given to the highly important second half of the encyclical, which unpacks the social implica- tion of the first half. It is hoped that what is argued here, however, will provide a sufficient foundation for those wishing to apply the thesis to the specifics of the second half. 1. Secularism as a theological problem Secularism is often misunderstood as simple atheism, as the denial that there is anything other than the material world knowable through the scientific method. But this is not the case. In fact, it could be argued that the biggest threat to traditional Christianity in the modern world is not atheism but “spirituality.” Secularists need not deny the existence of the “spiritual”; they simply deny that such a realm has anything to do with the day-to-day world. Moreover, secularists tend to see institutional or “public” religion as a threat to the autonomy of the mundane order. Or, to use Alexander Schme- mann’s succinct definition, secularism is the belief that this world is not God’s.4 Furthermore, if religion is strictly an otherworldly matter, then it can have nothing to do with truth or goodness as these things are found in this world. Like love, it would seem, spirituality is reduced to something so vague and ethereal as to be of utterly no consequence to the “real” world. What is perhaps more troubling is the fact that this under- standing of spirituality has crept into the Christian churches so that 4This seems to be the thesis of Schmemann’s book, already cited, For the Life of the World. At one point he explicitly states that secularism “is above all a negation of worship,” but this amounts to the same thing as denying that the world is God’s, for it is to deny that man is naturally (that is, as created) a worshipping animal (homo adorens), and therefore also to deny the sacramental character of the world. See especially, “Worship in a Secular Age,” which is added as an Appendix to For the Life of the World, 117–134. 426 Rodney Howsare Christianity itself is now reduced to a particular version of spirituality, and this is generally true of both sides of the “culture wars” that are playing out also in our churches. In other words, to return to Schmemann’s language, modern Christianity is largely divided into “spiritualists” and “activists.”5 Spiritualists tend to be more “conser- vative” and wish to hold on to the beliefs of traditional Christianity (at least notionally), such as the divinity of Christ, the nature of Scripture as the Word of God, the bodily resurrection and the doctrine of the Trinity. Activists, on the other hand, see the various doctrines and stories of Christianity much the same way that Kant saw them, as mythological pointers to some generally accessible underlying moral truths. As such, activists worry when Christianity gets overly bogged down in esoteric doctrinal and moral disputes, wanting, rather, to focus on loving their neighbor. A television program once depicted a priest celebrating Mass and then, after- wards, passing out soup in the church basement. “This is what we’re really about,” he said as he handed a cup of soup to a homeless man. The previous worship, it would seem, was little more than a morale boost for the important, this-worldly activity of the church.6 These apparent opposites, however, upon closer inspection, turn out to be simply competing versions of the same notion that God and this world, and, therefore, nature and grace, are not 5This split, diagnosed by Schmemann, parallels the split in churches between “conservatives” and “liberals,” insofar as one side wants to emphasize traditional morality and the “vertical” dimension of the Christian faith, while the other wants to emphasize service to neighbor and the “horizontal” dimension of the Christian faith. Even here, however, there is a tendency on both sides to accept the notion that the so-called vertical and horizontal dimensions of the faith can be separated. 6Notice how, in such a view, whether or not Christ is really present in the Eucharist makes no difference, provided the people who participate in the liturgy are inspired in some way. Theological attention to such problems, then, can quickly be seen as a distraction from what is really important. Benedict’s awareness of this widespread attitude is evidenced in his attention, in the latter part of the first half of the encyclical, to the intimate connection between liturgy and service. As he puts it, “Here the usual contraposition between worship and ethics simply falls apart. ‘Worship’ itself, Eucharistic communion, includes the reality both of being loved and of loving others in turn. A Eucharist which does not pass over into the concrete practice of love is intrinsically fragmented. Conversely, as we shall have to consider in greater detail below, the ‘commandment’ of love is only possible because it is more than a requirement.

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